This is It
by BlueMoonHowler
Summary: A series of oneshots, including multiple pairings and several different AU situations. If you don't like what I write, please don't read it. First pairing RW/HP, SLASH, explicit. 2nd pairing, HW/VK, songfic. no warning. Preview for #3 up. PLEASE! R
1. Tangled

**A/N; Disclaimer: **I do not own the characters of this or any stories posted hereafter.

* * *

**One: Tangled**

The sun shone down brilliantly, glinting brightly off the drifted snow on either side of the path. It was slightly blinding, yet no less beautiful for it. Harry Potter had to squint his emerald eyes behind his glasses as he went, scuffing the toes of his dragon-hide boots against the packed snow and dirt noiselessly, as he'd cast a silencing charm on himself to avoid disturbing the peace and serenity of the woods in which he walked. He was alone, and more than slightly disappointed by the fact. Everyday this week, he'd Apparated on his lunch break to this wood a few miles from his job at the Ministry, and every time until now he'd been accompanied by his partner and friend, Ronald Weasly. That day it didn't seem likely.

The two hadn't spoken much at work in the last few weeks, since Harry had broken Ginny's heart and their engagement in one fell swoop... So Ron and Harry eating lunch together was a big deal. Harry sank onto a cold wooden bench with his brown paper sack in hand, staring out across the frozen lake before him. The last three years, since the fall of the Dark Lord, fluttered by in his mind. It caught that time really flies, but to Harry all of that, the struggle with Voldermort and school, and everything else.. Well, almost everything else... Was a different lifetime. Something he was no longer a part of. He shook his head and closed his eyes to clear his mind while he bit into his roast-beef sandwich.

With a wet SPLAT, a snowball exploded in his face.

Harry yelped and leaped to his feet, laughing and sweeping the snow from his glasses with a whispered word and a flick of his wand. Ron stood a few yards away, one arm filled with snowballs and the other slapping his thigh as he laughed. Harry dove behind the bench and started building his own pile of snowballs. The battle began, effectively wiping all bad thoughts from Harry's mind. As their lunch hour dwindled, The two friends sank wearily into the snow, laughing huskily and rehashing their favorite moves and arguing over the victory. They hadn't changed a bit.

* * *

With a POP! Ron and Harry appeared at the door to the Burrow after work. Ron's father had finally retired from the ministry, only to be replaced by none other than his son and The-boy-who-lived himself. The door swung open and Molly Weasly called a hullo from the kitchen, where the two men could smell dinner cooking. While Harry owned 12 Grimmauld Place, he still very regularly stayed over with his surrogate family. Hermione Had gone on to becaome a very talented Medi-witch and worked as a head of department at St. Mungo's. She was probably on call that night, Harry thought to himself, or else she would have been there at the door to greet them. As it was, Harry's new owl, a tawny Barn Owl by the name of Drew, flew down from his perch next to Pig and presented Harry with his mail. Nothing important. He followed Ron into the dining room, buried in his thoughts. He couldn't wait for later.

Dinner was always a big even at the Burrow. Everyone canme downstairs and sat around the table and ate and talked and laughed.. Though there was some awkwardness between Harry and Ginny. Not much, but enough for others to notice. Conversation was light, but as the meal came to a close... Harry couldn't keep his eyes-or his thoughts-away from Ron. All that shaggy red hair and his leanly muscled, tall-bodied frame.. The dusting of freckles across his nose and way his ears burned red when he was embarrased. Tonight woud be the night. It had to be. If it wasn't, he'd make it so.

Ron looked up at Harry from across the table and was almost surprised at the look of utter _need_ that flashed behind his companion's eyes. He was more surprised, however, by the sudden surge of his heartbeat and the growing insistance that he could now feel straining against his pants. He blushed and his ears were on fire, but not so nearly as much as the rest of him. Harry looked away quickly, but a slight flush rose in his face and Ron knew his friend suspected what had just occurred.

What he didn't know was that what happened to him happened at nearly the same moment to Harry. Finally dinner was over. _'None too soon' _thought Harry and Ron, as they both as inconspicously as possible made their way upstairs under the guise of having had a long day at work.

They were almost to Ron's violently orange (still) bedroom but Harry couldn't take the distance between them anymore. He grabbed Ron's hand and turned him around, bringing their bodies together in one swift tug. In a secoond their lips were tantalizingly rough and yet smooth as silk against each other. Their pounding bodies strained and pressed together as Ron pushed Harry up against the door of the room, fumbling with the doorknob with a free hand as his other yanked up Harry's shirt to touch feverish, tanned flesh. Ron's shirt followed Harry's to the floor as their hands grazed each other, demanding something of each other that neither of them could define, even if their minds had been clear.

Harry's fingers fought to remove Ron's belt as Ron's teeth captured Harry's lip between them, and then his own hands followed suit. kicking off their shoes and ignoring their socks, the pair fell on the bed, ravishing each other's mouths and bodies with frantic movements. They seperated once, to yank off each other's pants before they were pressed together again, need touching fiery need. At one their tongues delved deep into each other's and each man's right hand found the other man's throbbing body. Hearts raced and bodies thrummed with passion and desire, each racing the other to an unknown goal. It was too much, yet not enough.

In a sharp movement, Ron flipped Harry onto his side and with a tenderness that was surprising laid a trail of kisses down his chest and belly, following his happy trail until he could close his mouth around his partner. Harry shuddered and shook, completely at the mercy of his lover. He always had been. He always was. But not this time. He fought to regain control of himself, and put his hands on Ron's shoulders, pushing him gently onto his back. Harry brusquely pressed Ron's knees to his chest and waited, one beat, then two. When Ron's only response was rough breathing and tossing his head back and forth on the sheets, Harry finally moved.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he slid into Ron. He checked himself and had to stop repeatedly to make sure he didn't lose control, not yet. At last, at such long last, he was fully sheathed. He slid slowly in and out at first, the tightness excruciating yet blissful, but all too soon he felt his control slip. Then it was gone, and he was pounding himself again and again into his lover, hard and fast, until they both reached the finishline, exhausted, at the exact same time.

_'Some things do change'_, Harry reflected as they drifted to sleep in each other's arms, _'But others never do.'_


	2. Faltering

A/N: This one has no sex or anything of remotely explicit nature. All songficcy oneshotish. Hope you enjoy...

'_Outside of this window there is beauty' _thought Victor to himself, _'But it is not the beauty I __**need**__…' _He stood staring out at the snow and ice of London's winter, and remarked to no one in particular how different it was compared to the harsh wind and sleet of his homeland. With a lightning-flash of movement he was out the window, riding on his broom over the city. The snow hardly effected him; in fact he didn't notice it at all. His heart hurt, and that was all he could feel. He didn't know where she was staying, and he was restless.. So he went. He landed just outside the Leaky Cauldron with a soft 'thump' against the slick stone walkway and made his way inside. He passed through the Inn to Diagon Alley, empty as it was at this hour, and headed for a tavern. It was many hours and as many or more drinks later that he emerged, and only because the place was closing. He wasn't drunk, for the brews here weren't as potent as to what he was accustomed, but he was still pretty much gone to anything but his heartache which was barely dulled. He wandered back out into the night streets of London, forgetting both his cloak and his broomstick at the Inn.

He stumbled a bit as he went, but not enough to fall. With a fettered movement he found a new drinking hole, full of muggles. He didn't mind; he had nothing against muggles. How could he, when his brilliant Hermione had been born one? _'Well,'_ he thought, _'she isn't MINE…' _and with that he began, once again, to attempt to drown his sorrows. There was a radio playing on the bar top, and as Victor Krum downed shot after shot of Vodka, a song he didn't know came on. He didn't know any of these muggle artists, but he liked them well enough. Tears swam in his eyes, and he listened.

"_Standing on a bus stop  
__Feeling your head pop  
Out in the night  
On the kind of night  
Where you want to be out  
On the street, on the street  
Crawling up the walls  
Like a cat in heat…"_

Krum threw back his head and took a gulp of burning liquor, drowning in himself. Hermione had stopped answering his letters. She used to send him pages and pages, but then she just.. Stopped. Stone-cold turkey. He didn't know why. He wrote to her again and again, each time his owl returning with no replies. Finally he got a letter, after weeks of anguish.. But it wasn't from her. It was from her parents, telling him that she had moved out and into a flat in downtown London. There was no word since. With a sharp intake of breath he held himself in check while the song still played.

"_And the air is thin  
And it blows through your skin  
And you feel like something  
Is about to begin  
Butcha don't know what  
And you don't know when  
So you tear at your hair  
And you scratch at your skin…"_

Subconsciously Victor scratched at the back of his hand and told his troubles to the kindly bartender. Even inebriated, he remembered to edit his story, made it muggle-friendly. His hair was unkempt and his speech slightly slurred, but in his head it was clear as the sun shining on the day after a violent storm. And through it all the radio still played.

_"You wanna run away, run away  
Just get on the fucking train and leave today  
And it doesn't matter where you spend the night  
You just might end up somewhere in a fight, in a fight  
Or crawling your room on a concrete shelf  
Fighting all alone, with yourself, with yourself  
And you just wanna feel like a coin that's been tossed  
In a wishing well, a wishing well  
A wishing well, a wishing well  
Well you're tossed in the air  
And you fell and you fell  
Through the dark blue waters  
Where you cast your spell  
Like you were just a wish that could turn out well.."_

As the music rushed through his head Victor continued spilling his guts to a complete stranger, the bar-keep who kept wiping the same glass over and over, so honest was his attempt to hear Krum out.

_"So you stand on the corner  
Where the angels sit  
And you think to yourself,  
"This is it, this is it  
This is all that I have  
All I can stand  
Is this air in my lungs  
And this coin in my hand"  
That you tossed in the air  
And I fell, and I fell  
All the way to the bottom  
Of the well, of the well  
Like those soft little secrets  
That you tell, that you tell.."_

As the singer crooned his whispered words, the door of the tavern opened for the first time since an hour before and in came stumbling a clearly frazzled and not-so-clearly-drunk woman, wearing a coat with buttons askew and her hair frizzy and disheveled. She wove around tables and sat, slumped at the bar, while the bartender brought her a drink. Clearly, by the look on his face, she was a regular. He couldn't hear her voice when she spoke, she kept it so soft, but something about her was provokingly familiar… In her following silence and his own, the song drew to a close.

"…_And she emerged from the dark  
Like a ghost in my head  
She said, "I haven't forgot  
Any words that you said.."_

Krum looked up at the bartender with a rueful smile and sighed, ordering another shot. At the sound of his voice in the silence that followed the song's end, the woman's head shot up. Her voice was practically a whisper, but this time he could hear it. "Victor?"


	3. Preview

PREVIEWS!!!: HP/DM AU SLASH hardcore/explicit Harry and Draco put aside their differences when they run into each other at a muggle theme park. Harry returns with Draco to his home for a drink, which turns into more drinks than either of them care to remember. What happens after is graphic, and in the morning, neither of them remember anything… Except the attraction they felt, and some soreness.


End file.
